


Potato Boy

by librata



Series: To Gather Strength From My Deepest Roots [2]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles Xavier in a Wheelchair, Comedy, Erik Has Feelings, Erik Lehnsherr Loves Charles Xavier, Family, Fluff, M/M, POV Charles, Poor Erik, married au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27504295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/librata/pseuds/librata
Summary: Edie moves in with Charles and Erik. While unpacking her belongings, Charles discovers something brilliant.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Series: To Gather Strength From My Deepest Roots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102469
Comments: 11
Kudos: 156





	Potato Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [midrashic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midrashic/gifts).



"How in the world did you fit this mess in the attic, Mama?" said Erik the moment the delivery driver shut the front door. "You could furnish the whole of Westphalia with this."

"Most of these things are yours, Spatz," Edie chided, though the fond, warm smile that always rested behind her lips betrayed her annoyance. "You promised me that you'd only be spending one summer in the United States, and that you'd be back to collect your things in no time."

"19 years can feel like no time," Charles acknowledged as he wheeled between the various towers of metal crates stacked in their foyer.

"For a young man in love, perhaps. For a tired mother waiting for her Spatz to come home, 19 years is an eternity."

"The guilt you attempt to foist upon me never takes." Even so, Erik leaned over to plant a kiss on his mother's greying head, an arm snaking around her shoulders to pull them in for a tight squeeze. "And anyway, you're home now."

Charles could not hold back his grin as he watched his husband and mother-in-law embrace in that gentle way that seemed so natural, so sincere. He could remember the first time that he met Edie, when she was just his hot boyfriend's foreign mother paying her wayward son a visit. He'd extended a polite hand, which she took and used as leverage to pull him in for a hug that felt familiar despite their lack of familiarity for each other. A smile that told of nothing but warmth, a mind that radiated pride for her son, and elation that he had met someone who he loved.

Over the course of their dinner, Charles had watched Erik's facade of independence and coolness morph into something far more complex and by the end of the night, he had added "Mama's Boy" to his list of all the things that made Erik who he was. Not that Charles could blame him for any of it—had he grown up under Edie's care, he was certain that he would bend over backwards for her, too.

As their relationship grew more serious, Charles's own connection with Edie expanded and at some point, she began to occupy the void in his psyche carved by his own biological parent. It wasn't Sharon's hand gripping his own when he awoke in a haze three days after suffering a polytraumatic injury from a car accident. Hell, it wasn't even Erik's—the poor bastard had been dutifully suspended from the hospital premises after threatening to inject a doctor who had suggested Erik get some sleep with the Bubonic Plague. No, it was Edie's strong, sure grip that coaxed him into consciousness, her voice an anchor, her presence a lifeline. The sadness in eyes that hadn't slept since she'd left Germany on a last-minute flight days before were also filled with encouragement, with hope. And when Charles learned of the permanent ramifications of his injury, she had been the one to wipe his tears away, but only just before promising him that while he was allowed to be upset right now, things would be better again.

So when Erik mentioned that his mother was considering a move from Germany to the United States, Charles did not hesitate to suggest that she stay with them. Their ostentatiously large mansion would enable privacy for each of them should they require it, but Charles was more than glad to provide her with a comfortable place to live. It was, truly, the very least that he could do.

"Do you want to unpack this now, Edie?" Charles asked, gesturing at the crates of her belongings that had finally arrived from Germany. "We can put your things in your suite and the rest in the attic, if you'd like."

"That would be most wonderful, mein Süßer," the old woman agreed. "Let me make us something to nibble on, first. Do you still like honey cookies?"

Charles's smile widened. Wonderful, indeed.

"Photos in the attic or in here, Mama?" asked Erik a few hours later. The three of them were spread across Edie's large bedroom, elbow-deep in the sorting of their own crates. "Attic, I assume."

"I'd like to keep a few in here. Let me see the box."

Charles's interest, which had been whittled away by the collection of dingy china he had been organizing, piqued immediately at the mention of photos. He'd adored looking at the ones displayed proudly across Edie's walls at her home in Germany, and if the size of the crate offered any indication toward the volume of its contents, there were plenty more to peruse through. Eager, Charles wheeled himself across the cluttered space to park himself beside his mother-in-law, and then plunged his arm into the crate to grab several stacks of photograph-stuffed envelopes.

Each envelope held photographs from a different time period, but they seemed to be arranged in no particular order. The first stack Charles flipped through were fairly recent, with photos from their last visit to Germany, their wedding, and various occasions of Edie with her friends. Edie selected a few of Erik's sister's children in front of a museum, and then set the stack aside. 

The next was much older, all in black and white or aged sepia, featuring austere folk in 1930s clothing. Edie pointed out the various relatives, including her angry-looking uncle who she insisted looked just like Erik.

"Ah, this is what I'm looking for," Charles beamed as he unsheathed a stack of photographs that looked to be from the decade in which he was born. "Did you know that Erik has never let me see photos of him as a baby?"

Charles didn't have to be a telepath to feel Erik's spike of panic from across the room. In what seemed to be two long strides, his husband bounded across the room, eyes filled with something between rage and fear. Reflexively, Charles pulled the stack toward his stomach, but not before Erik managed to wrap his scrabbling claws around half and yank it away. 

"Erik!" Charles cried, hurriedly stuffing the remaining photographs under his sweater so that he could back his chair away. "Erik, you'll ruin the—"

"Mother, do _not_ let him see those," Erik thundered at his mother, holding his half of the photos above his head and out of Charles's reach. There was true panic on his face, cool eyes raising to meet Charles's own. "Charles, give those to me."

Charles crossed his arms over his stomach to guard the photos from Erik's grasp, as if he were a dragon protecting his egg. Their eyes remained locked, and Charles could see the silent pleading in his husband's face, the wordless begging. 

"You're being silly, Spatz," Edie chastised, and stood to tug at Erik's raised arm. "You were a handsome Schnecke!"

"I was anything but a handsome Schnecke—"

With Edie hanging on Erik's arm, Charles took the opportunity to zip his chair around and unsheathe the photos from his sweater. Erik would be there within seconds to steal them away, he knew, but if he could just glance at one or two before——

"Oh my _God_. Is this _you_??"

"STOP!" Erik roared from behind his back, and then ripped the photos from his grip. " _STOP!_ "

But it was too late. Even as Erik cradled the photographs out of their reach, Charles doubled over in laughter, which echoed tauntingly against the walls.

It would be imprinted in his mind forever, this photo. Slightly yellowed with age, depicting a boy of maybe a year old, seated on a portrait studio stage. He had a shock of reddish curls framing rosy cheeks so large that they touched his shoulders. He wore a white, ruffled shirt underneath a pair of red lederhosen, embroidered with colorful flowers along the bib and straps, which seemed to strain a bit against his chubby middle. Fat legs extended out of the shorts with tiny feet stuffed into leather sandals, dangling off of the side of the prop sofa.

The little boy's expression looked displeased, but because his face was so round, it was hard to discern exactly _what_ he was trying to express.

" _Charles!_ "

"I'm–I'm so-sorry," Charles choked between laughs, tears beginning to well in his eyes. "You–you were just–"

"Funny-looking, I know–"

"A fat little potato boy in lederhosen!" Charles exclaimed, and his joy redoubled into another fit of uncontrollable laughter, because it was so brilliant to see that even his Roman god of a husband had been little more than a potato once, too.

"Potato boy!" Edie agreed, laughing in her own, gentler way. "You _were_ a little Kartoffel, Spatz!"

"Oh my God, _stop,_ " Erik said edgily, scowling at Charles as he sealed the metal crate with a sharp jerk of his hand. "Yes, I wasn't the most attractive child. We've established this."

"You were absolutely perfect, darling," Charles countered, wiping tears from his cheeks as he schooled his face into something more presentable for Erik's sake. "The most perfect little potato in the entire world."

" _My_ perfect little potato," Edie insisted, standing on her toes to place a kiss against a still scowling Erik's cheek. "Round and wonderful."

"I've had enough of you two," Erik grit through his teeth, and then tossed the photographs onto the bed with more force than necessary. "I'm leaving. Enjoy cackling like hyenas up here," he spat, turned on his heel, and stomped out of the room with his fists balled at his side.

The very moment that Erik was out of sight, Charles leaned over to gather the photos into a neat pile once more, his smile creeping back across his face. And upon glancing at the minuscule Erik once more, the laughter bubbled again. 

"His auntie was worried, you know," Edie said as she placed a hand on Charles's shoulder. "When he was very young, my sister feared that he would never grow to be handsome."

Still chuckling, Charles reached up to grab Edie's hand in his own. "Her fears certainly did not come to fruition. He grew into the most handsome man I've ever seen."

Edie glanced at the photo laid across Charles's knees. "I am glad that you think so, Mein Süßer. To me, he was always handsome."

"I wouldn't care for him any less if he wasn't handsome, of course," Charles reassured Edie, squeezing her fingers just slightly. "He could be the most unattractive person on Earth and I would love him just as much."

Edie's smile broadened a bit, and she leaned over to drop a kiss on Charles's cheek, this time. "Even if he looked like a potato boy?"

Charles beamed. "Even if he looked like a potato boy."


End file.
